


Traveling Home to Hell

by Dragon_in_Disguise



Series: Shameless/Supernatural AU [4]
Category: Shameless (US), Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Demon possession, Exorcisms, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hints of Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Hints of Mickey Milkovich/Sam Winchester, Homophobic Language, Hunter Castiel (Supernatural), Hunter Dean Winchester, Hunter Mickey Milkovich, Hunter Sam Winchester, M/M, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Possessed Iggy Milkovich, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Protective Sam Winchester, Sexuality discussion, Sick Mickey Milkovich, Swimming, Terry Milkovich Bashing, Terry Milkovich Being an Asshole, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28734477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_in_Disguise/pseuds/Dragon_in_Disguise
Summary: When Castiel receives news of demons possessing the people of Chicago, the group travels to Mickey's hometown to rid it of the beings of Hell. It gets worse when people from Mickey's past keep popping up when he's already on edge.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) & Mickey Milkovich, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Mickey Milkovich & Dean Winchester, Mickey Milkovich & Sam Winchester, past Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Shameless/Supernatural AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042647
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Traveling Home to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> I'M BACK
> 
> If you read the tags, then you know who the main ships are for this main storyline! We got our good old Cas/Dean and, because I'm a crackshipper, Sam/Mickey! Sorry not sorry everyone. 
> 
> Of course, I do plan on writing other ships (Cas/Mickey, Dean/Mickey, Sam/Cas, etc.) in separate one-shots that you guys can request if you wish! I'm having a lot of fun with these four so I'm going all out, but as for the main storyline, those two are the official ships!
> 
> Now enjoy the story. I had a lot of fun writing it.

“Jesus! Can you not do that?” Dean looks up and jumps himself when he sees Castiel standing behind him through the mirror, knowing for a fact he wasn’t there seconds ago. He looks over his shoulder, finding Mickey scowling at the angel from where he’s sitting on the motel bed, typing away at Sam’s computer with a muttered “Need a fucking bell or something.”

“Apologies,” Castiel says, turning to face Dean. “I have come across some news that concerns us.” Dean quirks a brow, nodding at him to continue. Castiel hesitates, oddly, before continuing. “A group of low-level demons are going around possessing and killing humans in Chicago, Illinois.”

Mickey’s rapid typing stops. Castiel sees him through the mirror, sees the wide-eyed, distant look in his blue hues. Dean glances past Castiel, catching the expression as well. He clears his throat, regarding Castiel carefully. “How many?”

“Four,” Castiel answers. “If they’re as reckless as they are now by the time we get there, they won’t be hard to find.”

Dean inhales slowly and nods. “Well, let’s get going then.”

Mickey slams the laptop shut and tosses it aside, getting up and grabbing his shoes. “Need a fucking smoke,” he mutters, storming past the two and out the door. 

Sam pokes his head out of the bathroom at the sound of the door slamming, toothbrush dangling from his lips. “Wha waz dat?”

Castiel sighs and turns to follow Mickey, leaving Dean to explain their next hunt. 

Apparently “need a fucking smoke” actually means “need a fucking drink.” Castiel loses Mickey for a few minutes, searching through the motel until he finds Mickey at the bar on the first floor, chugging his way through a bottle of whiskey. Castiel frowns, slowly making his way over and sitting down next to the angry man. “Mickey?”

“I’m not going,” Mickey spits out, not looking at him. “I’m not going back there.”

“I understand,” Castiel murmurs, setting his hand on Mickey’s arm. “If you don’t want to go, you can go back to the bunker until we get back. As I said, it won’t be difficult to find and rid these demons.”

Mickey glances down at his hand, eyes flicking up to meet his before he takes another long chug, shaking his head with a scowl. “Of all the fucking cities… North or South?”

Castiel tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“North or Southside?” Mickey says, waving his hand a bit. “The rich or poor part of Chicago?”

Castiel thinks for a moment. “Southside, I believe.”

Mickey laughs bitterly, taking another chug. “Fucking perfect.”

Castiel presses his lips together, reaching over and taking the bottle gently. Mickey doesn’t bother to stop him. “I’m assuming that’s where you lived?”

“What gave it away?” Mickey asks, giving him an annoyed stare. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. “My brothers still live there…” Castiel’s gaze softens, setting the bottle aside. Mickey chews on his bottom lip, tapping his heel against the leg of the stool anxiously. He rubs the edge of his eyebrow, a tick Castiel has associated with anxiety before he sits up and slides off the stool. “Let’s get going then. Need to make sure they’re okay.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asks, following after him. He only gets a curt nod in response and he leaves it there. 

“We shouldn’t park anywhere in the Southside,” Mickey says, speaking up for the first time since they crossed into Illinois. Dean glances at him through the rearview mirror, gaze questioning. Mickey is staring out of the window, looking extremely uncomfortable. “People there like to rob and steal nice cars. We should park in the North and walk from there.”

“Noted,” Dean mutters. “Would rather not have to kill some punk because he breaks into baby.”

Sam slaps his arm lightly, shaking his head. Castiel just watches Mickey, concerned at the way his face twists up whenever they pass by something he seems to recognize. He hasn’t been here for over a year, Castiel believes. He wonders if anything changed. 

Following Mickey’s directions, Dean finds a place that’s practically filled with nice looking cars and parks, the four unloading and grabbing their supplies before starting their trek for the Southside. Sam falls into pace beside Mickey, adjusting his bag over his shoulder and looking down at him with a grin. “This is where you lived, huh?”

“Unfortunately,” Mickey grumbles, pausing when he hears sirens. Castiel almost runs into him at his sudden stop, tilting his head in confusion. Dean and Sam keep walking a few more steps before they notice the two have stopped, looking back at them with raised brows. Mickey’s mouth dries up, looking at Castiel with a low hiss. “Cops.”

Castiel takes a moment to remember. “Stay near Sam,” he orders, nudging Mickey forward. “Sam, block him from any police’s line of sight.”

“Right,” Sam nods, remembering as well that Mickey is technically a criminal here - having been driven out after a woman accused him of almost murdering her. Mickey ducks his head a bit, sticking close to Sam’s side as they continue on. 

“Should ask around, right?” Dean asks as they walk through the Southside, looking around at the people moving around them, trying to find any hint of demonic possession. “Find out if anybody’s actually seen the shit these bastards are doing?”

“Yeah,” Sam nods in agreement. “Just… need to figure out where to start.”

Mickey sighs. “I know a place.”

The bell above them jingles as they enter the local bar - the _Alibi_ according to Mickey - alerting the woman behind the bar of their arrival. She opens her mouth to greet them when she spots Mickey, her eyes widening in surprise. “Mickey! Hey!”

“Hey, V,” Mickey greets, smiling lightly as he approaches the bar. She moves around the bar, hugging him tightly and making him grunt. 

“Where the hell have you been?” she asks, slapping his shoulder harshly, though her tone is playful. “You just disappeared off the face of the planet!”

“Left the city,” Mickey shrugs, clearing his throat and gesturing for the other three to come closer. “These are my friends. Uh, guys, this is Veronica. V, that’s Dean, Sam, and Cas.”

Veronica studies them and smiles kindly, holding her hand out and shaking each of their hands. “Welcome to the Alibi. Sit, sit! First shots are on me.”

Dean shrugs and gladly takes a seat, Sam sitting on his right while Castiel sits on his left, Mickey taking the seat next to Castiel. Veronica pours them each a shot glass, to which Dean holds up in thanks before shooting it back. Mickey does the same while Sam takes a moment to down his. Castiel just slides his glass to Dean, who downs it quickly. 

“Hey, V, we need to work out some plans to- holy shit!” The four glance up to find a beefy looking dude round the corner behind the bar, dropping the giant kin with a huge grin. “Mickey! My man, when did you get here?”

Mickey does a fist bump with the man, grinning. “Hey, Kev. Just got here.”

“What’re you going back here?” Kev asks, leaning against the counter. “Heard you got ran out after the whole thing with Sammi?”

Mickey fiddles with his empty glass, glancing at the others before answering. “Have a few questions about the… weird stuff going on lately.”

He hopes that somehow gets his point across, and by some miracle, he sees the couple share a look before Veronica leans against the counter. “You mean the serial killer running around?”

“Yeah,” Mickey nods, playing along. “Yeah, that. What’s been going on?”

“Well, we only know what we see on the news,” Veronica hums, a solemn look crossing her features. “Bunch of killings going around. Not even a pattern - the BAU has been brought in and they have no profile so far.”

“Seriously?” Mickey feigns ignorance, knowing they won’t ever get one. Not like they could really process the idea of demons running around, killing and stealing souls just for the kick of it. 

“Where have they been happening?” Castiel asks. 

Kev shrugs. “All over town, really. We have to lock all our doors and windows every moment of the day now. Got a shotgun again just in case this fucker tries to break in and hurt my family.”

“How many are dead?” Mickey asks, voice a bit strained. 

“Sixteen, wasn’t it?” Kev answers. 

Mickey swallows. “Are my brothers okay?”

“Oh yeah, they’re okay,” Kev nods, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “But, um… the killer did get your uncle Ronnie.”

Mickey closes his eyes, bowing his head a bit. His uncle Ronnie was one of Terry’s brothers, the only brother who kept in touch with Terry’s family. He’s Joey and Jamie’s dad - _shit,_ this is awful. Dean clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Has anybody seen the bodies or anything?”

Veronica makes a face. “Not that I know of.”

Sam nods, tapping the counter and getting to his feet. “Well, we better get going. Have some stuff to do.”

“Well, be careful,” Veronica frets, shooting Mickey a smile. “Keep in touch, okay?”

Mickey nods slowly, smiling back. “Yeah, will do.”

Despite Castiel’s certainty that these demons would be easy to find, after hours of walking and talking to others about the strange string of deaths, they have no leads or sightings of these demons. For a while, Castiel was concerned they left, but given their activity, Castiel’s sure they won’t leave for a while. Almost every person they talk to recognizes Mickey, which has led to two reactions - one of familiarity and kindness, and the other being immediate disregard to them with either a scowl or a look of fear. Mickey, either way, is extremely uncomfortable the whole time. 

Sam steps close to Mickey as they walk, eyeing the cop car that speeds by, sirens blazing. Mickey nods at him in thanks, adjusting the bag hanging from his shoulder. Despite the weather being relatively decent, he’s getting hot under the beaming sun. The heavy bag against his back is not helping. 

“Let’s try and ask him,” Dean speaks up as they walk through one of the many run-down neighborhoods, raising his voice and calling out. “Hey, you!” Mickey lifts his head to see who he’s talking about and completely freezes up, throat tightening and heart stopping. Sam stops next to him, frowning down at him in concern. Mickey can’t speak though, wondering if he should turn and bolt or not. 

“What’s up?” Ian Gallagher asks, turning to address Dean as he approaches him in front of the one and only Gallagher household. Mickey can’t help but think Ian looks good. The last time he saw him, he was pale - not the usual paleness that came with being a red-head, but a sickly color, body lacking his previous muscles, hair overgrown, and eyes dull. Now, dressed in a fucking EMT uniform, Ian looks built again - healthier, even. He must be on his meds. 

“Wanted to ask about the recent killings,” Dean explains, stopping in front of Mickey’s ex at the gate. 

Castiel pauses a few feet in front of Mickey and Sam, frowning and turning to look at Mickey. Mickey knows Castiel must remember Ian from his memories and just recognized him, given the look of guilt on his features. Clearly, Castiel didn’t expect to run into Ian today. 

A few minutes must’ve passed because Dean is walking back over to them, looking annoyed. “Knows nothing. Just like everyone else.”

For a moment, Mickey relaxes, thankful he didn’t have to talk to the red-headed Gallagher, but that joy dissipates immediately upon hearing a disbelieving “Mickey?”

Dean peers back at Ian, stepping aside to let them see each other. Mickey curses at him silently for that. He meets Ian’s eyes though, tensing up at the odd expression on his face. “Hey,” he says softly, looking away quickly. 

“When… when did you get back?” Ian asks, approaching him. 

“A while ago,” Mickey answers, still not looking at him. He’s not sure his heart can take it. “Not staying long though.”

Ian pauses, sighing softly. “Didn’t think I’d see you again. You look good, Mick.”

Mickey swallows, staring at his feet. “You too.”

Dean and Sam glance at each other, unsure of the tension between the two men. Ian glances at the other three, gaze questioning, before he regards Mickey again. “Wanna go get a drink? It’s been a year since…” he trails off, both knowing what he means.

Mickey’s not sure how to respond. He can’t do it. He spent months telling himself to get over Ian, constantly reminding himself of how bad they were together. If he looks at Ian, he’s not sure what will happen. In the past, this boy could win him over with one look. That’s how much Mickey loved him. 

“Sorry,” Castiel suddenly speaks up, putting himself between the two. “He’s with me. We don’t have time to get another drink.”

Ian and Mickey both look at him in shock. Ian blinks and takes a step back, laughing awkwardly. “Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to…” He clears his throat, nodding at Mickey. “Well, if you have time later, I’d still like to catch up. Um… have a nice day,” he says, nodding at Castiel before turning and walking off for his house. 

Mickey waits until Ian disappears to smack Castiel’s shoulder, eye wide. “What the fuck was that?”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asks, doing his classic confused head tilt.

Dean snickers, coughing through it and gesturing to where Ian disappeared into his house. “Um… you kinda made it sound like you and Mick are “hitting the sheets together,” if you catch my drift.”

Castiel still looks confused. Mickey rubs his face, a heavy sigh escaping him. “He thinks we’re a thing, Cas. Like- boyfriends, or something.”

“Oh,” Castiel blinks, looking a little sheepish. “Didn’t mean it like that. I just… remember him.”

“I get it,” Mickey grumbles, walking past him. “Let’s just go.”

The three take a moment to follow, Sam casting Castiel a look of amusement. “It did kind of come off like you were claiming he was your boyfriend.”

Castiel frowns, shaking his head. “I don’t see the issue with that, but I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean snorts, eyes glinting with an odd look Castiel hasn’t seen before. “What, you suddenly swing for dudes now? You two actually hitting the sheets and we just don’t know about it?” Castiel shoots him an annoyed glance. Dean shuts his mouth and keeps walking. Sam casts Dean a frown but doesn’t comment, following after them.

“Christ, it’s almost six,” Mickey snaps, turning to Castiel with a scowl. “You said this would be fucking easy.”

“I said if they were still being reckless,” Castiel corrects. “It seems they may know we’re here and are hiding.”

“Well, fan-fucking-tastic!” Mickey shouts, throwing his arms up and stomping on. 

“What’s up his ass?” Dean grumbles to Sam. 

“Don’t think he likes being back in his hometown,” Sam mutters back. Castiel doesn’t bother to explain, following after Mickey quickly. 

“Mickey, just hold on,” he growls, grabbing Mickey’s arm and whirling him around. Mickey glares up at him, scowl still present. “Look, I know this is proving to be difficult, and I’m sorry if we do have to stay more than one day, but-”

“Our deal was one day,” Mickey snaps. “One day!”

“I know!” Castiel snaps back. “But I can’t help that these demons went into hiding!”

“Can’t you use your voodoo angel magic and smite them?” Mickey asks, voice still raised. 

“No, because that would kill everyone, including you three,” Castiel says, trying to keep his voice down despite Mickey’s angry shouting. 

“Guys, stop,” Sam says carefully, grabbing their shoulders and pushing them away gently. “People are looking. Why don’t we just find a hotel to stay in and-”

“Well well, look who showed up.” Mickey stiffens at that voice, paling and slowly looking over his shoulder. A lump grows in his throat, noticing they’re just one house away from the hellhole he grew up in, his father posted at the gate with a smirk on his face. “Where’ve you been, kid? Heard you got chased out of the city by a Gallagher?”

Mickey struggles to speak through his tight throat. “Hey, dad.”

Castiel’s anger immediately shifts from Mickey to Terry Milkovich, his hand wrapping around Mickey’s arm and tugging him back. “Let’s go.”

Before they can get a step away, Terry is calling out “That your new bitch?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey spits out. 

“Can’t believe you’re still a fucking fairy,” Terry tsks, lighting a cigarette. “Fucking disgusting.”

Sam’s eyes widen at his words, Dean stilling at his side. Mickey has stopped moving too, struggling to stay put as Castiel tugs on his arm to keep them moving. He looks over his shoulder at his father with a sneer. “Says the man who fucks men in fucking prison.”

Terry rolls his eyes, face turning an angry red. Mickey can see the ankle bracelet - he’s trying to not break probation. No wonder he hasn’t attacked Mickey. “I ain’t no fucking faggot though.”

Mickey winces while Castiel full-on glowers, stopping and whirling around to glare at the Milkovich. Mickey is almost afraid Castiel will smite him right then and there. However, the first one to speak is Dean. His face hardens, turning to face Mickey’s father. “What’d you say?”

Terry turns his eyes to Dean, inhaling a slow drag from his stick. “I ain’t no fucking faggot like my little bitch of a son.”

In a flash, Dean drops his bag and takes three wide strides towards the other, fist swinging and shooting the old man back onto the walkway to the porch. Sam shouts in surprise, moving to stop Dean as he climbs on top of Terry and punches him over and over again. 

Mickey is stock-still, staring with wide eyes at the scene. His dad hardly has a chance to retaliate, blood coating his face as Dean keeps punching and punching. Sam grabs his shoulders to haul him off but Dean shoves him away, lifting Terry by the collar of his shirt and slamming his head back against the concrete, effectively knocking him out. 

“Dean!” Sam shouts, finally yanking his brother off of the unconscious man. “Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Dean is panting, glaring down at the bloodied face. “Didn't you hear what he said, Sammy?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“The fuck’s going on out here?” They pause, looking up to find a dude who looks a little older than Mickey standing on the porch, looking mildly amused at the sight before him. 

Mickey breaks out of his trance, letting out a breath of air and pulling out of Castiel’s grasp, moving past Dean and Sam towards the other. “Iggy!”

Iggy stares at Mickey for a moment before he smiles and walks off the porch, greeting his brother with a quick hug. “Hey, Mick.”

“God, I’m glad you’re okay,” Mickey sighs, glancing back at Terry. He turns to Dean, frowning. “You didn’t have to do that, Dean.”

“Whatever,” Dean mutters, rubbing his knuckles. “Felt like he deserved it.”

Iggy chuckles. “Maybe.” He looks around them, raising a brow. “Who’re these guys?”

“Ah, my friends,” Mickey answers, gesturing to them. “That’s Dean, Sam, and Cas.”

Iggy eyes each one as Mickey names them off, stopping on Castiel with a slight frown. Castiel meets his eyes and they both _know._ Castiel narrows his eyes, speaking up. “Mickey, get away from him.

Mickey looks over at him, confused. “Why?”

Before Castiel can answer, Iggy has grabbed Mickey and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing a blade against his neck and making the younger man gasp. “Stay back, or I’m cutting his head off.”

Mickey stills, gripping Iggy’s arm in surprise. “I-Ig?”

Dean and Sam tense up as Iggy’s eyes flicker to complete blackness, Dean yanking out his handgun and pointing it at Iggy. “Drop it!”

“Back off!” Iggy snarls, pressing the blade closer to Mickey’s neck. 

Castiel doesn’t - he moves forward, eyes narrowed and beginning to glow. “Stupid demon. Shut your eyes.”

Dean and Sam do as he says, but before Castiel can lift his hand, Mickey pleads “Don’t! Don’t, you’ll kill Iggy too!”

Castiel falters, seeing the look of fear on his friend’s face. Iggy - or Aamon, the demon possessing Iggy - snarls lowly at Castiel, the knife pressing so close to Mickey’s neck that if he adds more pressure, his skin will split open. Castiel knows this demon - has run into a few times in the past decade. He’s slipped from his grasp too many times, but he was a reckless demon. Castiel’s not surprised he’s here. 

“Let him go, Aamon,” Castiel growls, refraining from stepping closer when Aamon tightens his grip on the knife. 

Aamon snarls lowly, making Mickey wince at the sound next to his ear. For a moment, no one moves, trying to figure out how to get through this without Mickey getting hurt. A gunshot rings out and Aamon snarls in pain, yanking away from Mickey to grip his bleeding shoulder. Dean lowers his gun as Sam moves forward, tackling the demon down and slamming his head against the ground, stunning him. 

Mickey grips his neck, backing away quickly from the demon. He jolts when Castiel grips him, moving his hand away so he can look over his neck. In seconds, the cut there is gone. “Got him!” Sam says, pinning Aamon to the ground. The demon is still stunned, groaning and pressing his cheek against the ground. 

Dean pockets his gun, turning to Castiel with a frown. “What now?”

“We can’t kill him,” Mickey says firmly. “He’s my brother.”

Dean shakes his head. “Mick…”

“No!” Mickey snaps, walking over to where Sam is still holding Aamon down. “We are _not_ killing him! There has to be a safer way to get that piece of shit out of him!”

“Maybe,” Sam murmurs, looking at Dean. “Old fashion exorcism?” 

Dean considers that, glancing at Castiel. “Seems like our only option.”

Castiel sighs and nods curtly. “Okay. Sam, Mickey, you two deal with him while Dean and I keep looking. You know how to reach us,” he adds, shooting Mickey one last glance before he and Dean turn and leave the Milkovich yard. Dean glowers down at Terry along the way. 

Iggy- right, _Aamon,_ Mickey thinks bitterly - thrashes around in the chair he’s tied to, stuck in the Devil’s Trap Sam drew up. Mickey flinches, the demon snarling as he realizes how fucked he really is. “You’re both gonna die for this! Gonna rip you to shreds once I’m out of here and let you suffer before I take you down to Hell to suffer some more!”

“Shut up, already,” Sam grumbles, digging out an old book from his bag. 

Mickey looks at Sam fearfully. “What now?”

“Gonna exorcise him,” he says simply, opening up the book. “If… if he’s not damaged- Iggy, I mean… he should survive this.” Mickey nods, taking a deep breath and looking at his brother. The demon smirks at him sickeningly, tilting his head back with an amused chuckle. 

“You really think you can save your precious brother? I’m the only thing keeping him alive,” he drawls in Iggy’s typically lazy voice. “Your little exorcism won’t save him.”

“We’ll see about that,” Sam mutters, turning to the demon. He glances at Mickey. “Ready?”

Mickey clenches his trembling hands and nods. “Ready.”

“That was a rather odd reaction,” Castiel comments, looking down the street with a frown. Dean hums in question. “What you did to Terry.”

“Who?”

“Mickey’s dad,” Castiel clarifies. 

Dean shrugs, glancing over his shoulder. “He deserved it.”

“While I agree, given their history, but I never expected that kind of reaction from you,” Castiel says. 

Dean shrugs again. “I don’t know. That slur was just… Mickey fucking flinched, man. It’s not hard to figure out that bastard is homophobic and probably treated him harshly growing up and all, so… yeah, I got pissed.”

Castiel hums. “Well, you are right. But it’s not my place to say. You’ll have to talk to Mickey yourself.”

Dean’s face twists slightly, looking concerned. “How bad was it?”

Castiel considers that. “Bad…” 

Dean’s brows pinch, shaking his head with a sigh. “What’s up with all the fuck-ups finding each other, huh?”

“None of you are screw-ups,” Castiel murmurs, pausing in their walk to set a hand on his shoulder. “Any of you could’ve turned out much worse.”

Dean meets his eyes and nods in reluctant agreement. “I guess.” 

Castiel opens his mouth to say more but is cut off by a woman screaming down the street. Both men whirl around, seeing a glimpse of a girl being yanked around the side of a house. Castiel and Dean share a look before they run after her, Castiel’s angel blade sliding into his palm while Dean yanks out his handgun. 

“Let her go!” Dean shouts as they round the corner, aiming his gun at the lanky dude dragging the girl into hiding. The man’s head snaps up and Castiel growls, eyes connecting with complete blackness. The demon snarls and quickly drops her, turning and running. Dean moves to help the girl while Castiel gives chase. “Hey, hey! You okay?”

The girl shoves away from him. “Don’t touch me!” She does little to fix her clothes, huffing and running away from him quickly. Dean grits his teeth and lets her go, running after where Castiel and the demon disappeared. 

Only he doesn’t get far, running smack dab into a large figure, almost falling back onto his ass from the force of the hit. He looks up, backing up quickly when he sees black where his eyes should’ve been. A woman walks out from behind the large man, her eyes sporting that same darkness. Guess they found the last three. 

Dean fires at the two demons, making them stumble before he runs back the way he came. He yelps when his body flies into the side of the house, yelling out in pain as he hits the ground. Before he can grab his fallen gun, his body hits against the house again, pinned in place by an unknown force. He clenches his jaw, watching the female demon walk towards him, hand hovering with a twisted smirk on her face. “Dean Winchester. How lovely to meet you in person.”

“Glad to know I’m getting famous,” Dean grits out, struggling against her force. 

“We’re going to enjoy this,” she sneers, clenching her hand into a fist. Dean shouts in pain, feeling the force constrict around him as if trying to squeeze him until he literally pops. 

Before that graphic death can happen, the three are interrupted by a loud “Shut your eyes!” Dean quickly squeezes his eyes shut, the beaming white light flashing across his eyelids. Two mixed screeches hit his ears, his body crumbling to the ground. Two hands grab his shoulders and sit him up, opening his eyes again to meet Castiel’s. “You okay?” Castiel asks, looking him over worriedly. 

“Yeah,” Dean grunts out, peering past him to find the two demons - or, their hosts - limp on the ground, eyes blown out and mouths hanging open. “Christ… is that all of them?”

“Yes,” Castiel nods, “I caught the first one. All that’s left is Mickey’s brother.”

“Should head back then, yeah?” Dean mutters, stumbling to his feet. “Make sure that thing hasn’t torn them apart or anything.”

“Sam or Mickey would’ve prayed to me if something went wrong,” Castiel claims, starting the walk back to the Milkovich house where they left them. “I hope this exorcism works. Not sure how Mickey will handle it if his brother doesn’t make it.”

“They really close?” Dean asks, following after him.

“No, not really, but his brother raised him,” Castiel murmurs, shaking his head. “They may not have a relationship like you and Sam, but they do care about each other.”

“I get that,” Dean hums. “Doubt anybody would want to see their sibling die, whether or not they’re close.”

“Indeed.”

Hearing this demon scream with Iggy’s voice is absolute torture for Mickey, pacing around the devil’s trap as Sam chants the incantation, the demon thrashing as much as he can in the chair. The house trembles around them, the walls echoing with his screams and Sam’s growing voice, speaking faster and faster. Mickey flinches at a loud shriek, his eyes connecting with the demon’s for a moment before he looks away, unable to watch Iggy’s face twist with pain. 

The moment Sam finishes speaking, Iggy’s head shoots back and his mouth falls open, black smoke shooting out and into the ceiling, swirling above them so fast Mickey’s almost sure he and Sam will be knocked off their feet. It only lasts a few seconds, the black mist disappearing and Iggy’s body falling limp. 

“Iggy?” Mickey calls out, running forward and grabbing his face. “Iggy? Hey!” He slaps his cheek lightly. “Wake up!”

“Give him a moment,” Sam says gently, setting a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “Just… hold on.”

Mickey swallows and waits impatiently for any sign of life from his brother, his anxiety growing more and more with each passing second. He makes a noise close to a gasp when he sees Iggy’s chest rise and fall, face scrunching up slightly but otherwise not moving. Mickey looks up at Sam, eyes wide. “Is he going to be okay?”

Sam nods, pulling out his knife to cut Iggy out of the ties. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. We should get him to the hospital. He might need some medical help.”

“Right,” Mickey nods, brushing Iggy’s bangs back worriedly. Iggy’s eyes flutter for a moment, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut again. Mickey relaxes at the sound, lips twitching into a smile. “Fucking hell…” 

As it was already late by the time they left Iggy at the hospital, the four decided on staying in a motel and booking it back to the bunker in the morning for Mickey’s sake. Right now, none of them tired enough to clock out for the night, have followed Mickey to Lake Michigan, two six cases of beer in hand. Mickey takes them to the edge of the water, sitting down on the rocky shore with a relaxed sigh. Castiel stares out curiously at the lake beside Mickey, head cocked and hair blowing softly in the breeze. Mickey smiles at the sight. 

“You ever swim in there?” Dean asks on the other side of Sam, cracking open his first beer. 

Mickey shakes his head. “Nah, can’t swim.”

Sam gapes at him. “Seriously? You never learned?”

Mickey shrugs, looking down. “Kinda hard when the only way you’re taught is being thrown into the deep end of a pool.”

The three stare at him in shock - well, Castiel’s is more of a sad gaze. Dean sits up to regard him with a narrowed look. “What? Seriously? Don’t tell me whoever did that let you drown?” Mickey glances at him and takes a slow sip of his beer, choosing not to answer. Dean shakes his head, looking pained. “Christ…”

“I’m sorry about that,” Sam murmurs. 

“It’s whatever,” Mickey grumbles, leaning back on his elbows. “Who needs to swim anyway.”

Castiel turns to look back out over the water, humming softly. “It’d be a good skill to have. If you come upon a situation where you need to swim through a body of water, it’d prove to be useful to know how.”

“When would I ever need to swim?” Mickey asks skeptically. 

“If you get caught in a flood, or if you become stranded in the middle of a large body of water and need to get to shore,” Castiel says easily. 

Mickey considers that, grunting and taking another drink. “Fuck it. I’ll just drown.”

“Nope, not happening,” Sam states, tilting his head back to down a few more gulps of his beer before he sets it aside, stands, and grabs Mickey’s arm. “Come on.”

“What? Hey- the fuck?” Mickey stumbles to his feet, dropping his drink as Sam tugs him closer to the edge of the lake. “Hey! Sam!”

“Oh, this should be good,” Dean snickers, scooting closer to Castiel with a smirk.

“What is he doing?” Castiel asks, tilting his head as he watches the two men stop at the edge of the water, Sam stripping off his jeans and shirt and gesturing for Mickey to do the same. Castiel hears Mickey snap about it being too cold before Sam is on him, lifting the much shorter man over his shoulder and stepping into the water. 

“Gonna try and teach him how to swim,” Dean hums, snorting at Mickey’s yells and curses, the Milkovich pounding harshly at Sam’s back. “Or just get him wet. We’ll find out.”

“He won’t get scared, right?” Castiel murmurs, looking at Dean worriedly. “Given his history with “learning how to swim.””

“Sam will take care of him,” Dean assures. “If Mickey does get scared, he’ll get him out.” 

Castiel purses his lips but turns his eyes back to the two. Sam is standing up to his waist in the water, lowering the struggling Mickey into the water in front of him. Mickey goes rigid and Castiel is worried he’ll start freaking out, but Mickey just glares at Sam and complains about the cold. Castiel wonders how Sam is not cold considering he is half-naked and Mickey is still fully clothed and complaining. 

“Come on,” Dean grunts, getting to his feet and gesturing for Castiel to follow. They trail down to the edge of the shore, Dean kicking off his shoes next to Mickey and Sam’s. He settles down close to where the water laps at the rocks, setting his feet down within reach of the rising and falling water. He hums and settles down on his back, staring up at the sky. 

Castiel slowly lowers down next to him, feeling the water touch the tips of his shoes as he lies down, looking up at the stars with a small hum. “You humans have constellations, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, searching for a moment before he points up. “See that? Pattern looks like a pot? That’s the Big Dipper.” 

Castiel stares blankly at where he’s pointing. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Dean rolls his eyes and scoots closer, their arms squishing together as he knocks his head gently against Castiel’s, pointing up again. “Here - look at that star. Follow it to that one, then that one, keep going to that bright one right there…” He points at each star, tracing a shape out for Castiel to see. As the pattern loops back around to form a pot shape, he grins and looks at Castiel’s face, seeing the curious glint in his eyes. “See it now?”

“In a way,” Castiel murmurs. “Difficult when I see more than a bright light. But I can see the shape now.”

Dean smiles and lowers his hand, tilting his head away but otherwise not moving away. Castiel glances at him, his arm practically burning against Dean’s. He can’t help but smile, staring just a moment longer before he turns his gaze back up to the billions of stars in the sky. 

Meanwhile, Sam chuckles as Mickey tightens his grip on his biceps, his own hands still gripping his waist. “It’s not that cold.”

“I can’t feel my fucking feet,” Mickey hisses out, looking down at the black water with a nervous glint in his eyes. He swallows and digs his toes deeper into the sand, trying to remember he’s still standing, that he’s not going to drown like all the other times he’s been in the water. 

_Come on, Mickey, you’re a fucking adult. Stop being such a goddamn pussy._

“Hey,” Sam says softly, pulling Mickey from his thoughts. He looks up at the taller man, taken aback by the gentle look on his face. “It’s okay. I got you.”

Mickey quickly looks away, clearing his throat and nodding. “Right. Yeah.” 

“When was the last time you were in the water?” Sam asks, bending his knees to lower himself down to Mickey’s height. His hands trail up to grip Mickey’s ribs, still keeping a hold on him despite Mickey’s current ability to stand just fine. 

Mickey shivers again and shrugs. “Maybe when I was eleven?”

“And no one taught you?”

“No.”

Sam hums, lowering himself more until his shoulders are almost completely under, looking up at Mickey with a smile. “You must know the basics, right?”

Mickey moves his hands to grip his shoulders instead, shifting his feet in the sand. “Something about kicking your legs and moving your arms.” 

“Yeah, right,” Sam grins. “Gonna let you go for a second, okay? Gonna show you how to move.”

Mickey hesitates at the idea but reluctantly nods, reminding himself he’s still standing. Sam releases him and tilts backward to float on his back, his long legs kicking lazily to push him back along the surface of the water, swiping his arms down to give himself some speed. Mickey watches him closely, both taking note of his movements and, embarrassingly, staring a couple of times at his very built figure. 

He’s never actually seen Sam without his clothes and it’s honestly a pity. He’s seen Dean without his shirt and has stared, obviously, and he remembers the first night he met them that Castiel was half-naked for a few moments. Literally the only time he’s seen Castiel out of his typical dress shirt and trench coat. 

Mickey’s thankful he’s still in his clothes for a moment, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at his own figure. God, what is he? A fucking girl? Mickey never once thought badly of his body growing up - he has a decent figure, though he lost some of his juvie muscle over the last few years. Seeing these assholes though with their abs and thick biceps and sharp jawlines - Mickey feels a bit envious. 

He’s shaken from his thoughts when Sam swims back over to him, gesturing for him to try. Mickey holds his breath as he lowers down a bit, not exactly floating on his back. He lifts his legs to copy Sam’s movements, but his body immediately starts to sink and he yelps in surprise, water flooding into his mouth. He kicks wildly for a moment, one foot finding the ground and pushing himself back up. Hands grab him again and he coughs, stumbling forward against Sam to try and get his balance back. 

“Easy! Easy,” Sam says, holding Mickey up quickly. He coughs again and grips onto Sam, trembling a bit from a mix of the cold and anxiety. Fuck. _Fuck._ He felt like he was back in that swimming pool when he was nine, his dad shoving him into the deep end of the pool and watching him sink to the bottom. If Iggy didn’t jump in after him…

“I got you,” Sam murmurs as Mickey calms down. “You’re okay. I got you.”

“Fuck, this is bullshit,” Mickey hisses out, pressing his temple to Sam’s shoulder. “Fuck Castiel and his stupid fucking logic. I don’t need to swim.”

“Hey,” Sam tilts his head to look down at him, frowning a bit, “it’s okay. You won’t be perfect on the first try. Here, let’s try this…” 

Mickey lets Sam manhandle him back down to float on his back, one hand on his lower back and the other under his neck. Mickey swallows nervously, one hand holding onto Sam’s arm as he keeps him afloat. Sam instructs him to kick his legs again and Mickey does so, his body moving just a bit over the surface of the water. “Spread your arms,” Sam tells him and Mickey hesitantly does so. Sam’s hands hover just slightly under him, allowing him to somewhat float on his own as he slowly kicks his legs, moving around on the surface of the water slowly. 

“There you go,” Sam grins, slowly pulling his hands away completely. Mickey’s brows are furrowed, lip between his teeth as he concentrates, hesitantly moving his hands down to gain some momentum. Sam meets Mickey’s eyes and when Mickey smiles crookedly, Sam’s grin widens and he turns back to the shore, throwing up a thumbs up at the other two watching them. “He’s floating!”

“Took fifteen minutes!” Dean calls back, tipping his drink in congratulations. 

“Fuck off!” Mickey shouts at him. 

“It’s getting colder, Sammy!” Dean tells him, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “Should head back before you two catch a cold!”

Sam clicks his tongue and helps Mickey stand back up so he doesn’t dunk under the water again. “Can come back to this another time.”

“Sure,” Mickey grunts, his eyes glinting a bit. Before Sam can get a word out, Mickey is grabbing the top of his head and shoving him under the water. Sam sputters and pushes up as soon as Mickey lets go, pushing his wet hair out of his face as Mickey laughs at him. 

“Oh, you’re getting it now,” Sam smirks and Mickey quickly turns to run for the shore. However, due to the water, he has a difficult time in doing so, allowing Sam to loop an arm around his waist and yank him back, gulping in a big breath of air before he tightens his hold and falls backward into the water with the shorter man. 

The two come back up, spitting out water and laughing at each other. Mickey splashes Sam and Sam splashes him back, the water swishing violently around them as they play. Dean and Castiel watch in amusement from the shore. 

“You know how to swim, right?” Dean asks Castiel, finishing his second beer. 

“Yes,” Castiel nods. “It’d be odd if I didn’t.”

“True.”

The two men in the water finally calm down and settle in the water, still chuckling and wiping water from their faces. Mickey’s hands are holding onto Sam’s shoulders again, leaning into him far enough for his feet to not touch the ground, kicking under them to keep himself afloat. Sam’s arm is still wrapped around his waist, his other hand gripping Mickey’s ribs. Mickey grins up at Sam, his cheeks a bit pink. Probably from the cold. 

“Not so bad, huh?” Sam teases. 

Mickey’s eyes flick over his face, biting his lip and leaning back just a tad. “Nah, not really.” 

Sam notices how close they are too but just smiles, jerking his head towards the others. “Let’s go back to the motel. Get warmed up before we get sick and all.”

“I haven’t been sick since freshman year,” Mickey claims, still holding onto him as they paddle towards the shore. “I’ll be fine.”

Mickey sneezes again and curses, shivering as he tugs his jacket closer around himself. Sam peers back at him from the passenger seat, smiling sympathetically. “Sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’m fine,” Mickey snaps, sniffing and rubbing his face. Fuck swimming. He feels like absolute shit right now. 

Castiel is watching him with that stupid fucking concerned expression beside him in the backseat of Dean’s car, frowning and examining seemingly every fucking inch of Mickey. He shifts uncomfortably and turns his body away, leaning his head against the cool window and closing his eyes. While the rest of his body feels like he just got dunked into snow butt naked, his face is burning, head pounding and causing him to groan again. 

“Cas, can you get him a blanket or something?” Dean asks, looking through the rearview mirror at them. “Think I have one in the back somewhere.”

“You don’t,” Castiel mutters after a moment of looking, huffing softly and unbuckling his seat belt to shimmy out of his trench coat. Mickey’s eyes flick open when he feels Castiel’s hands press against his shoulders, a warm weight settling over him. He glances down, finding Castiel’s coat lying over him, the angel adjusting it so it covers most of his body. “There.”

Mickey stares at him, perplexed, before he grabs it and tugs it closer, his shivers dying down just a tad. “Thanks…”

“Try and get some sleep, Mick,” Sam says softly, looking back at him again. “We’ll be back at the bunker soon and we’ll make you soup or something.” 

Mickey wants to argue. He grew up on the idea that being sick was a weakness rather than something that can naturally happen to literally anybody - thanks, Terry. When Iggy caught the flu, he almost had to be hospitalized because Terry forced him to go on a run with him and their cousins. Joey ended up catching it from him but was put on bed rest by his mother. When Mandy got food poisoning and kept throwing up for a whole week, Terry would mock her from the doorway about having a weak stomach or some shit like that. The last time Mickey got sick in freshman year, he passed out during a fucking brawl Terry made him attend. 

He holds his tongue, realizing arguing would be stupid. Especially against Sam. The guy was always so fucking serious about stuff like this. 

“Okay,” he mumbles instead, shifting to try and get comfortable in the cramped backseat. Castiel is watching him again and Mickey can’t hold his tongue. “The fuck you staring at?”

Castiel hardly reacts. “Would you like to lay down?”

Dean glances at them through the rearview mirror again. Mickey makes a face. “I would if I could.”

“You can,” Castiel insists, reaching over to unbuckle Mickey’s seatbelt. The brothers glance back as Mickey protests, watching Castiel manhandle him until he is lying down across the backseat, his head nestled in Castiel’s lap. Mickey’s protests die slowly, a frown still on his face but otherwise he looks content. Sam can’t help but smile at the sight while Dean shakes his head in amusement. 

“Wipe that damn smirk off your face, asshole,” Mickey sneers at Dean. He sneezes again and Dean does laugh this time. “Fuck you.”

“Aw, cheer up,” Dean teases, “you got an angel to cuddle with.”

Mickey scowls at him. Sam turns a bit in his seat and reaches over, pressing the back of his hand to Mickey’s forehead gently. “Jeez, you are burning up. You able to help him, Cas?”

Mickey’s eyes flutter at his touch, tilting his head forward a bit to press closer. “I can probably help him through the cold,” Castiel tells Sam, his own hands reaching up to card through Mickey’s hair. “Slow healing, though. Don’t want to overwhelm his body. He has rapid temperature changes right now.”

“Right,” Sam nods, pulling his hand back. “We’ll leave you to it.”

Mickey holds back a sigh of disappointment at Sam pulling away, tilting his head instead to Castiel’s hands stroking through his hair. His palms warm up against his skull, sending a jolt through him. His headache lifts a bit and Mickey relaxes, turning over to press his face against Castiel’s stomach, exhaustion crashing over him. 

Castiel continues his ministrations as Mickey falls asleep. A question that’s been bugging him since yesterday nags at him once more, pounding in his head and begging to be answered. Dean’s words _”What, you suddenly swing for dudes now?”_ repeats once more and Castiel isn’t sure why it’s bugging him exactly. 

Castiel doesn’t exactly swing for anything specific. He hasn’t ever considered a potential relationship, given he’s an angel and all. It’s not uncommon for angels to have relationships, but Castiel himself never thought about it. 

Men, women, nonbinary, gender-fluid, trans, or any other- Castiel can’t pick one specifically that he would go for. He loves all. The idea of basing his attraction on someone’s genitals is a little appalling but he understands why some humans are that way, given as that’s how they were born. Like them, he can’t control his attraction, and his attraction is based on the person as a whole, not their sex or gender. 

Sure, this realization wouldn’t exactly come as easy as before when he didn’t have any sort of experience. He recalls the time Dean took him out to get laid so he wouldn’t die a virgin - of course, that’s not what happened - and he was shaking so hard, ready to bolt out of there. It wasn’t because of the woman, just the idea of having sex in general. Didn’t matter with who. 

He’s not a virgin anymore though, and he knows now that the whole sex and gender thing means nothing to him. 

Satisfied with this, Castiel lifts his head and speaks up. “Dean, does it bother you Mickey is gay?”

Maybe there could’ve been a better way to start this discussion, especially since Dean sputters so hard he swerves the car. Castiel stays calm though while Dean looks at him over his shoulder, looks at Sam, then looks back at the road. “The hell kind of question is that?”

Castiel narrows his eyes at the lack of an answer. “Yesterday, you came off… passive-aggressive, in a way, when discussing the hypothetical situation of me and Mickey being together.”

Sam's eyebrows raise, glancing at Dean as his brother frowns deeply, looking at Castiel through the rearview mirror. “I was not! I was just- you know, teasing you!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sam mutters.

Dean glares at him. “I was! I don’t care that Mickey’s… you know…!”

Sam scoffs, his own glare forming. “You can’t even say it.”

“Fine! I don’t care he’s gay! You happy?” Castiel and Sam don’t speak, which seems to further piss Dean off. “Look, okay, I’m just not used to seeing this shit. Dad wasn’t exactly gay friendly, so hearing his bullshit growing up…” He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “I swear I don’t care. He can do whatever.”

“Of course he can,” Castiel mutters. “He doesn’t need our approval, but given his history with his father, he could use our support.”

Dean’s shoulders slump and he sighs, knocking his head back against the headrest. “Yeah, I know… at least now I know after yesterday…” 

Castiel almost scowls at the memory of Terry’s words. Sam’s face scrunches up as well. Mickey shifts and nuzzles closer to Castiel, his breathing still light and features relaxed. Castiel keeps running his fingers through his hair, his hands glowing softly against his head as he works him through his fever. “Yesterday, when you asked me if I suddenly swing for dudes now-”

“I meant that as a joke,” Dean interrupts quickly. 

“Well, I don’t swing for anything specific, Dean,” Castiel says. 

The two brothers look confused for a few moments, Sam turning to look back at him. “What do you mean?”

Castiel shrugs his shoulders. “I mean I look at everyone equally.”

It seems to click with Sam first. “Oh! You’re- damn, what was it called?”

“Bi?” Dean suggests, still confused. 

“No- Pan! He’s pansexual,” Sam settles, grinning back at the angel. “You know if we were to put a label on it.”

Castiel’s heard of this term and it fits quite well so he just nods curtly. Dean glances at his brother, still confused. “The hell is Pansexual?”

“Basing your attraction on someone’s person as a whole, regardless of gender or sex,” Sam explains easily. 

Dean’s brows furrow, still confused. “So basically whenever women say shit like “I like him for his personality” kind of bullshit?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but pans don’t really care about the gender part. They, as Cas put it, love all. In a way.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, glancing at Castiel through the rearview mirror again. “So you do swing for dudes?”

Castiel and Sam groan.

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of y'all already ship Dean/Cas so how are y'all feeling with Sam/Mickey? Sorry for the Gallavich shippers but I'm writing Mickey to where he gets over Ian, so Ian won't be present a lot. 
> 
> Fun fact: Sam/Mickey was not originally going to happen until I started writing this. The swimming scene just happened and I just knew "holy shit, I've created something fanTASTIC" 
> 
> sooooo yeah welcome to this hellhole called crossover shipping. it's a disease and i have infected all of y'all. you're welcome.


End file.
